


The Tempest

by Auntvodkacat



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auntvodkacat/pseuds/Auntvodkacat
Summary: Try as they might, in a world falling apart at the seams, even the best laid plans tend to go awry. Morinthe, the hunter turned Inquisitor, has nations to manage, rifts to close, and people who rely on her to keep it all together, but nature seems to have other ideas.





	

When she’d first been freed from her chains in the chantry at Haven, when the Inquisition had been new and the end of the world had hung over all of their heads constantly, she’d been shocked at just how much the humans had abhorred nakedness. Until much later, Morinthe had been completely unable to understand at all what horrified them so about their own bodies. Always, even when alone, they were expected to keep themselves covered, as if they were ashamed of having a physical form at all.

In the clan, away from Chantries and their propaganda of shame and self loathing, Dalish elves considered nudity to be mundane. Amongst family, whom one should be able to trust above all others, it was only natural that one should feel comfortable being fully exposed. The body was not something that was inherently sexual. They were just people, nothing more and nothing less. 

Despite Josephine’s insistence that she wear the silken nightclothes she’d been given, to cover up her despicable flesh, Morinthe never wore clothes to bed. If anyone caught her ‘indisposed’, as Josephine insisted on calling it, she would not be the one at fault, after all.

The closed windows all around her creaked and shuddered as the wind battered against them. Even nestled amongst its coals, the fire quivered frightfully at the storm. Her darkened bedroom was filled with bright blue light as thunder clapped tremendously outside before the shadows quickly returned once more. Morinthe pulled the furs that rested on her bare shoulders more tightly around herself, her gaze never lifting from the flickering orange curls of light.

It occurred to her that it would be more logical to wear one of Josephine’s silly night gowns tonight, considering the fact that the entirety of Skyhold was buried beneath eight inches of snow. Still, that childishly stubborn part of her that had somehow survived childhood refused to budge. It would take more than a little, well, perhaps not little, storm to make her cave on this issue. She whined a little in the back of her throat as another gust came ripping across the mountain, the cold air finding its way to her through the thin glass with ease.

The torrent had lasted for three days now. There was no safe way to travel through the mountains for the moment, so, they had been waiting stagnantly whilst the rest of the world was still on verge of collapse as usual. It tore at her to no end how little information they were able to get in and out of the Frostbacks in this state. How many of her people were out there dying while they were stranded here, helpless to come to their aid?

A storm had no heart, no soul, no life. It was a force of nature- not something to be reasoned with, not something to be fought or defeated. All they could do was wait and hope that this would pass, and Morinthe was convinced she’d lose her mind before it ever did. So, this was her only way of fighting back, pitiful and meaningless as it was.

Morinthe planned very soon to have those Orleisian silk sheets on her bed replaced with plain cotton. Soft as they were, the damned things couldn’t keep her warm at all in this weather. Even piled underneath all of her bedding, she’d been absolutely freezing. It just went to further cement in her mind that all things from Orleis, her spy master and grand enchanter aside, weren’t worth a damn. So, she’d been exiled from her comfortable bed to the hard stone floor by the fireplace for the evening.

She was running out of logs, though, and soon Morinthe feared she would have to venture out of her room to find more. Again, she didn’t have any problem with shamelessly roaming the halls of Skyhold without a scrap of fabric on, but she had the impression many others would. The usual clothes she wore around the castle were completely soaked through by the freezing rain, and she’d left them in a pile by the fire to dry. The only things in her wardrobe were the overly complex gowns Vivienne had ordered her, and she would honestly rather freeze to death than attempt to figure any of that out on her own.

Just as she was beginning to resign herself to a slow, chilly demise, a soft knock came on her door. She contemplated whether or not she should answer with only a thick blanket draped around her, but decided that life was too short to worry about that sort of thing. Morinthe came to her feet and slowly descended the stairs. Despite the din of the tempest outside, she was hesitant to make too much noise this late, so she slowly edged the door open.

A part of her had known it would be him even before their eyes met in that dark hallway. Who else, after all, would call on her at this hour?

“Dorian didn’t drop a book on your head again, did he?” Morinthe asked playfully, trying to calm her chattering teeth.

“No, he did not.” Solas replied, not smiling fully, but allowing the side of his mouth to quirk up slightly. His true smiles had to be earned, and Morinthe could not deny how satisfying it was when she could manage to draw one out of the man. She’d have to work harder tonight, it seemed. “May I come in?”

“I’m shocked you even find the need to ask at this point,” Morinthe laughed, stepping aside.

If he’d noticed how underdressed she was, he didn’t look it. Then again, she knew he was well aware of her stance on nightclothes. He seemed to be the only person in Skyhold not at all bothered by it. He passed her, and she followed closely behind as he ascended the short stairway up into her room. He paused standing before the fireplace, his strange eyes focused on the fire as her own had been only moments before. They looked almost violet brown with the firelight in his eyes; every time she seemed to pin down the exact hue, it changed somehow.

“Is something wrong Solas?” Morinthe asked softly as she padded toward him.

“No,” he responded. He could talk for hours under usual circumstances, when all he had to use was that fantastic mind of his, but where his heart was involved, Morinthe was always astounded by just how little he had to say.

She slid her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, letting the blanket fall in a pile on the floor. Morinthe felt every inch of her skin crying out at the loss of warmth, but she ignored it. She cupped the sides of his face and ran her thumbs over his prominent cheekbones as she moved to stand between him and the fire, forcing him to look at her once more.

“Was there something you needed then?” Morinthe whispered.

His arms snaked around her waist and brought her flush against him as he sought out her lips with an open mouth. Morinthe laughed joyously into him as she grasped the nape of his neck to bring him closer.

Another thing she could never understand about Andrastianism was its view on sex. Like nakedness, it was something to be ashamed of, to be hidden and despised. It was considered weak and sinful to think of it, to speak of it. Maker help you if you dared to express an open desire for the act itself.

Words could not express the reverence with which she slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt, tugged it over his head, and tossed it carelessly across the room. In her mind, nothing about this could ever possibly be dirty or wrong. How could being this close to him be a sin? To her ears, the soft shudders and gasps that rushed out of him at her touch were a stronger prayer than any chant could ever hope to be.

Despite her generally kind, people pleasing nature, Morinthe was rather domineering in bed, or, on the floor in this case. As it were, Solas was usually equally as eager to take the lead, neither one willing to back down. Morinthe had been with men in the past who were willing to fully submit to her without a fight, and each and every one of those experiences had been miserably unsatisfying. The struggle drove her wild, as she suspected it did him as well. 

She managed to pin him down beneath her with her thighs, pushing his wrists into the floor with each of her hands. Morinthe couldn’t suppress the giggle that rose in her throat as he strained against her before, eventually, stilling. She knew by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t done yet. Solas was simply biding his time.

If she had it her way, Morinthe would forbid Solas from ever wearing clothing again. It wasn’t simply how breathtakingly beautiful he was, but the exhilaration she felt from the act of tearing away the layers that he hid himself behind, of having all of him to herself.

She let go of his hands so that she could run her fingers over his chest. Morinthe paid special care to every wispy auburn hair, every freckle, and, most of all, the soft red flush of blood beneath his pale skin. It was one advantage she had over him, being dark as she was.  
She brought her hands to rest where she could feel his heart beating heavily beneath his ribs. Solas folded his long, dexterous fingers over them, bringing warmth to the frozen digits once again. Despite his chilly demeanor, the man was like a furnace. Morinthe wondered if that was the reason walking barefoot through wind, rain, and snow never seemed to faze him.

Her hands curled into tight fists as she pushed down to latch onto his mouth again, and her legs tightened around him. There was definitely a possessive quality to her intimacy, Morinthe couldn’t deny that. She would never deny him if he truly wished for her to stop, to give him space, however. Though she might have acted that way at times, Morinthe did not want to own anyone.

She could feel the soft growl that emanated deep within his chest and vibrated beneath her. Morinthe sucked on the sensitive skin just beneath the junction of his jaw and ear, getting high off of the way his breath caught. She teased him in this way for a while longer, until, inevitably, his self control shattered, and Solas’s arms flew up around her again as he swiftly sat up.

Since he’d been willing to play nice for a moment, Morinthe figured it was only fair that she return the favor. For a while, anyway. She let him feel his way across the planes of her back and down across her ribs as his hands traveled lower, only to playfully tug them away at the last second.

“I’m surprised at you Solas, taking advantage of me like this. Here I am as bare as I was when I was born screaming into this world, and you’re still half dressed.” Morinthe scolded, biting his lip for added emphasis.

“Ir abelas,” he murmured with a wry smile.

She tore open the lacings of his pants and dragged her thumb over the curve of his hip as the tight fabric loosened around him. Morinthe liked to take her time, just as he had for months after kissing her like he was possessed in the Fade. She ground herself against him though the fabric but, still, refused to touch him just yet.

In retaliation, he brushed his fingers over her nipples, making the sensitive flesh harden beneath his touch. He palmed her right breast as he dipped his head down to drag his teeth along the side of her neck, causing her back to arch sharply.

She gently raked her nails down the ridge of Solas’s spine while her other hand explored deeper into his pants.

Solas laughed in surprise as she suddenly ripped the fabric down from around his waist. He kicked them the rest of the way off, leaving himself in nothing but his foot bindings and the pendant that hung from his neck.

They tussled a bit over who was going to be the one on top this time around before, eventually, Morinthe ended up winning out in the end. Solas did spoil her so- there was nothing he wouldn’t allow her eventually. She made herself promise she’d let him have his way next time, though it was difficult to give up the power trip watching her always controlled partner become completely undone beneath her sent her on.

She didn’t understand half of the things he grunted and muttered as she drove him into the floor. In the back of her mind, Morinthe worried that she might seriously mess up his back doing this on marble as opposed to a mattress. It bewildered her a bit that Solas always fell into mindless ramblings in Elvish when they made love. One would think that if his first language was Common and he’d simply learned Elvish through the Fade, as he claimed, he wouldn’t instinctively go to it, particularly when his mind was...distracted. Morinthe couldn’t deny that, as much as she loved his voice in general, hearing that elegant tongue lost to the ages slip so effortlessly from his full lips was euphoric.

When it was over, she dragged the blanket from where it had been abandoned by the fire and draped it over them both as she curled into his side. Solas wrapped both arms around her waist and buried his face into her hair with a deep sigh. 

“Solas?” Morinthe’s voice was muffled slightly as she spoke into the flesh of his exposed neck.

“Hmm?”

“I’m rather curious as to what brought this on.” she murmured.

“I was cold,” Solas explained simply.

It wasn’t really even that funny, but, for some reason or another, Morinthe erupted into laughter. Perhaps it was simply because how completely and utterly unexpected the response was. He pinched her side in retaliation, causing it to only get worse. The bastard knew how ridiculously ticklish she was. She gently smacked him on the shoulder and, thankfully, he relented.

“And,” he continued, tucking a strand of her medium brown hair behind her ear with his thumb. “I was curious to see if you were stubborn enough to lounge about naked in the middle of an ice storm. It would seem my assumption was correct.”

Morinthe rolled her eyes and gave him a chaste kiss before tucking her face into the nook between his neck and shoulder.

“Vhenan,” he whispered urgently, bringing her back from the cusp of sleep.

“Mmhmm?”

“I do not imagine sleeping on the floor will feel particularly pleasant in the morning.”

“Alright, you may have a point there.” Morinthe groaned, sitting up. She was already starting to feel a little stiff, actually. As she was preparing to stand, Solas scooped her up, pelt and all.

“You better not make this a habit,” she mumbled, her face half hidden in his chest. “My asshole ‘friends’ would never let me hear the end of it.”

“I will try to remember that,” he agreed, gingerly laying her down in the center of her massive bed.

Morinthe immediately burrowed down as deeply as she could into the pile of blankets, quickly dragging her lover into the nest with her. Suddenly, the bed was a whole lot warmer than it had been a while ago.

In a feeble attempt to block out the air outside, Morinthe let the curtains on the four poster bed fall, blocking out all of the remaining, feeble light in the room. With the pounding thunder outside and the rattling of rain against the windows, she was reminded briefly of nights spent huddled in her bed roll as a child, jumping each time the lightning shook the sky outside the aravel. Back then, she’d been too afraid of being called a coward to seek out comfort from her family, even though they were lying so close to her.

She’d faced a blighted magister and his pet dragon with nothing but a sword she didn’t know how to use and a sarcastic sneer before-- lightning wasn’t quite so intimidating anymore. Regardless, a great bear couldn’t have taken him away from her in that moment.

“You still have not heard back from the scouts that Leliana sent through the pass.” he said suddenly.

Of course he’d known. She’d thought she’d hidden her concern well, even as her endless worry had built up inside, like the torrential downpour outside. Morinthe had spent all day assuring the ones who looked up to her that they’d see this through, that everything would resolve itself, when she doubted it just as much as they, if not more so.

“No, I haven’t.” she admitted softly.

“It is foolish to blame yourself for that which is out of your own control.” Solas drew her closer. It wasn’t often she felt the need to be protected. Morinthe hated the idea, expected better out of herself than to be some fragile little woman who couldn’t take care of herself. She could understand the temptation to let someone else shoulder her burdens for a while, though, with his arms as a barrier between her and the entire, raging world.

“I know.” Morinthe whispered, barely even audible.

“Then why do you persist with this?” Solas urged.

“Because you’ve all entrusted your Inquisition to a horrendously irrational girl in over her head.” she laughed weakly.

“Don’t spout such nonsense, please. Particularly when you know it could not be farther from the truth.” Solas corrected. “Would you like to hear my theory on the matter?”

“Please,” she murmured.

“You blame yourself because claiming responsibility is easier than accepting that there is nothing you can do.” Solas surmised.

“A likely story, Fade Walker,” Morinthe drawled, dragging her forefinger down his ribs and along the curve of his hipbone. “And why couldn’t I come to this conclusion myself, I wonder?”

“I believe you’ve known this the entire time, vhenan.”

“I suppose it is all a waste.” Morinthe agreed. “The storm doesn’t care whether I torture myself or not. It’s not going to get anything done.”

“Precisely.” Solas agreed, resting his chin atop her head.

“You know, Solas,” Morinthe said.

“Hmm?”

“If this is the way you’re going to go about setting me right again, I really should drive myself off the deep end more often.” Morinthe chuckled.

“That was not the lesson I had intended to impart.” Solas sighed in exasperation.

“Some things are beyond our control, vhenan,” Morinthe mimicked, nipping him on the end of his ear.

“But not all,” he growled, rolling her over onto her back and pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. She couldn’t stop the contented sigh that escaped her lungs at the contact. It seemed that, like the storm that raged outside, this night was still far from over.


End file.
